Woman Overboard
by The Insomniac Sisters
Summary: AU. What if it were Elizabeth who'd lost everything to the pirates in a ship raid, instead of Will? Would she still have the chance to meet Jack Sparrow, even while she's parading as a boy? [Jack&Elizabeth]
1. Prologue

**Woman Overboard**  
By the Insomniac Sisters  
**Prologue**

Bleary eyes, dry of many hours of flooding tears, stared fixedly at the scene before her. Everything was surreal. The _HMS Porpoise_ was engulfed in flames, setting the ocean blazing with dancing red, orange, and yellow embers. Elizabeth knew everything was lost everything from the _mizzen top _(her favorite hiding place) to her Mama's prized ivory brush. All was lost in that fire. More tears cascaded down her cheeks and lips. Especially her mother and father.

She wailed loudly into the night, pressing her face onto the hard plank that kept her afloat on the water. Her parents were gone. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, the fact still stood. She _saw_ it happen. She hid as her mother had instructed and watched. All innocence had drained from her eyes. Fierce ugly men towered over her weeping mother as her father desperately fought to protect his beloved wife. Goods were stolen and blood was shed. Elizabeth shuddered. That image will haunt her for the rest of her days.

What will she do? She wondered. Who would save her in this chilly darkness, miles and miles away from the coast? Where could she _live_? She had no other family, at least none that she knew of. No one could help her now.

Half-lidded eyes watched the smoke rise in the air, while the sea beneath lulled her to sleep. Slowly blackness filled her senses, the smell of burning and death engraved in her mind. Before she lost consciousness, one word sent her drowning in fear and relentless hate.

_Pirates._

A merchant ship had discovered her before the break of dawn. She first opened her eyes to a craggily but kind face with grin that had a few missing teeth. The person had a long scar across his half-shut eye, his wrinkled skin coated with grease and sweat. Not to mention an unattractive smell wafting beneath her nose. Elizabeth thought she had never seen a sight so beautiful.

" 'Oy, Johnny! The lassie's woken up!" His smile grew wider as she looked up at him curiously. Another man appeared in her view, much taller and stockier than his comrade. Once he caught her attention, Johnny grinned and winked at her.

"Aye, she has indeed. Welcome aboard the _Nalisty_, miss."

Mr. Johnny an Mr. Barty were her saviors. She didn't miss an opportunity of thanking them the time she was on the _Nalisty_, until the point Mr. Johnny kindly reassured her that all her _thank you's_ were welcomed and that rescuing dames in distress was their job, besides hauling cargo back and forth. At that, she only smiled a little in reply, not yet having the courage to laugh. Not when her parents were dead for less than three days. For the remainder of her lodging on that merchant ship, she grieved for her mother and father's fates.

The two merchants dropped Elizabeth off at their next stop: Port Royal. Elizabeth recalled the town mentioned several times by her father, in one of his political business talks that were but a bore to her.

The rising run greeted her skin with a warm sensation that brought a little feeling back into her body. She was still soaked to the bone from floating in the water for God knows how long. Her once elaborate gown, stitched with embroidery meticulously sewn by her mother, was now in ruins and hung limp and heavy on her frail body. The dress drew mud and frayed at the bottom as it dragged along the cobblestone streets. Her eyes darted franticly for a friendly face.

Hope drained from her body as she trudged barefoot through bustling townspeople starting their day. Fishermen were docking their boats after a successful morning of fishing. The smell of rotting dead fish and sea water lingered in the air. The streets were lined with fish markets, young springy boys running errands, and peddlers playing their concertinas and pipes, hoping to scrape a shilling. This was a whole different world to her.

More than anything, she needed comfort. She was frightened, tired, and most of all, she was alone. Loose rocks pierced her bare feet as she padded over to a nearby tavern, hoping to buy a delicious warm meal with the few shillings Mr. Barty generously offered her. Elizabeth approached the dingy-looking place with wide eyes, its wooden beams rotten and grimy.

She yelped as a stool flew out of an already-broken window and jumped out of its way. She ogled at it in disbelief. Obviously, she had never been to an inn before, not with her upper-class status in her hometown. Yet it was mostly due to the fact that her father was overprotective and forbade her to enter such a place. But now, she winced, her father was long gone. As a young orphan, no parent was here to stop her.

"Move out o' the way, girl," growled a cross-eyed man who smelled of some vile drink. Elizabeth nearly shrieked when he put a hand on her shoulder and roughly shoved her to the side.

She narrowed her eyes after the man, annoyed at being manhandled. Before she entered herself, a boy about her age or younger pushed his way in. "Sorry!" the lad carelessly threw over his shoulder, not glancing at her once.

Elizabeth angrily blew a puff of air. "I cannot believe it. All these people are absolutely foul, smelly, and rude!" She stomped inside, walked over to the counter and slammed down two coins.

"A full meal of whatever you have for me, please," she demanded with a haughty air.

The bartender behind the counter took one look at her and laughed loudly. "Who do ye think ye are, lass? We serve no filthy little girls in me pub. Run along on yer pretty feet." Then he turned away and rang up a pint of rum for the chap beside Elizabeththe same young lad that cut in front of her at the door.

Her jaw dropped at the injustice of it all.

She took a couple of deep breaths and swiped her coins off the table, glaring at every person her eyes met. "Whatever," she muttered and left the stuffy tavern.

Where was she going to eat now? She wondered numbly. It seemed that this particular town did not hold the same esteem for women as the did for men. The idea was totally outrageous in Elizabeth's opinion.

Suddenly, another idea popped into her mind. She slowly smiled. Just perhaps this plan would work.

Thirty minutes later, with much cajoling on Elizabeth's part and some fuss from an expectant mother and her needle, there she stood under the bright sun with a smug smile on her face . . . and not quite looking so much like a girl anymore. The dainty daughter of an aristocrat chucked the dress and donned the britches of a boy. Mentally patting herself on the back for her brilliance, she pursued the streets once more.

Days after that, entering taverns was a cinch for Elizabeth Swann. Three weeks after her arrival at Port Royal, after endless days of scrounging food and wandering the streets, she became Blacksmith Brown's young apprentice and took on the name Charles Wellington. For the next couple years, she lived the best that she could in that small town in Jamaica. Her life was content and routinely, waking up at dawn and welding metal under unbearable heat.

Until she met a certain pirate, of course.

**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything in this story, except for the plot and some unrecognizable characters!

**Authors' Notes:**

**V0X **Thank you so much for reading our story! This idea was generated from watching the second movie. And ever since we saw the scenes with Elizabeth and Jack . . . Well, one thing led to the other and _voila! _"Woman Overboard" is born. Kudos to Cookie Nuts for making the title. If it weren't for her, this story wouldn't even be on Please, please, please review. Constructive criticism is also welcome. Muchas gracias!

**Zell **Thanks again for taking the time to read our story. VOX and I are the bestest of friends and this is just one of our ways of combining our talents. Personally, I didn't really enjoy the second movie as much as I had hoped. The plot just didn't work for me. So VOX and I have decided to take matters into our own hands with this story. We really hope you enjoyed our prologue. We hope to go really far with this fanfic. Come back soon! R+R! PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

_**Love from the Insomniac Sisters**_


	2. Ship's Boy Charlie

**Woman Overboard**

By The Insomniac Sisters

**Chapter One: Ship's Boy Charlie**

There was a flash of bright red, a high-pitched scream, the loud clash of metal against metal, and the sinister cackle escaping from wind-chapped lips. Flames rise higher as ghost shadows dance jauntily on the ship's deck. Crimson oozed at her feet, soaked the hem of a light-blue dress. To relive an inescapable nightmare . . .

"Charlie! Those knives and cutlasses aren't going to make themselves, ye know!"

Startled, Elizabeth woke from her slumber to find a very red-faced and bursting-at-the-veins Mr. Brown. Not surprising, that sight. Sitting up, she was ready to receive the same lecture without a fight. _Not so beautiful, either_, she concluded, eyeing him warily.

"This is the fifth time this week, boy. With your head up in the clouds, Lord knows how you can get any work done around here. Now get goin' before ye'll be doin' the donkey's job! Christ, what am I going to do with you?"

Elizabeth would drift away from time to time, while in the middle of some activity - whether it is buffing a hilt or folding hot metal. It was a dangerous habit to have, especially if one was the blacksmith's apprentice. Yet she could not help it. To daydream was a way to make time move faster, besides sword fighting, reading, eating, sleeping, sword fighting . . .

"Don't make me tell you twice, boy!" Mr. Brown's head popped in to notice Elizabeth had not moved. "Now get moving! That means you too, mister." He brandished a threatening finger at the donkey. At once, the donkey began its journey round the circular track and brought the stilted contraption back to life.

Without a word, Elizabeth resumed her post. Once soft and unblemished fingers were now covered in soot and were rough to the touch. Large calluses had formed from forging hot metal into lethal yet elegant blades. Creating something so beautiful yet equally dangerous was no easy feat, especially for that of a young girl. Some clients had questioned the slight touch of femininity the style her swords had, yet most were please by the results anyway. She could not deny that she was flattered by their praises, as Mr. Brown rarely complimented on her own skills. As a fellow blacksmith and stern mentor, he was hard to please. Nevertheless, even through the rough conditions, absolutely no one could find out about her secret. Who knows what they would do to her if they found out that she was a fraud.

She had come along way from the pampered noble life to working tirelessly under the Jamaican sun. As Elizabeth Swann, she was delicate with porcelain white skin and ruffled swelling dresses. As Charles Wellington, he - _she_ - was toned with sun-tanned skin, adorned in the roughly made attire of a blacksmith. Yet she was still pencil-thin and occasionally clumsy when her mind is not in the right place. Plus, it has been a very, very long time since she had felt pretty.

'_Tis no use to dwell on it now,_ she thought bitterly and gently shaped the tang into the proper size to wedge into the hilt. Once in a while, she took up an anvil and pounded on it when she was unsatisfied with its design.

Two blades, one polished hilt and one sheath later, the sun had begun to set. He brought in some bread and sausages for them to share. From never having a child of his own, Mr. Brown had grown fond of Elizabeth's company, even though he had never said so to her.

"You have a new assignment for tomorrow, Charlie. I need you to deliver something for me." He took another bite from his piece of bread and brushed the excess crumbs to the floor. "This is really important, so don't screw up. Got it?"

She nodded her head in agreement. For the time that she has spent with Mr. Brown, she had avoided saying anything to decrease the chances of revealing her secret. Unknowingly to Elizabeth, this lead to Mr. Brown's suspicions that Charlie was a eunuch.

"See those cases over there?" He nodded his head toward the door.

There were at least five jet-black crates stacked to almost the same height as she was. _What am I? _inwardly grumbled Elizabeth. _A package mule?_

"I want ye to take those to this ship that will be dockin' tomorrow mornin'. It is called the _HMS Endeavour_, one o' the navy's ships. Make sure ye get the name right, boy, or they'll have our heads!" That last statement made it clear that if these blades were not delivered, they would be looking for a new blacksmith by this time tomorrow. This, Charlie Wellington did not doubt.

Elizabeth's mouth twitched and then nodded solemnly. "Y'got that right, sir." She received a smack upside her head.

"Don't give me cheek, and move yer skinny little arse to bed!"

"Yes, Mum," she said in mock-submission.

"What did I say about cheek?" He waved the brand rod in the air like a madman.

Elizabeth bit her lip to stifle the laughter bubbling in her throat and headed towards her comfy makeshift bed on the hay. She still had yet to make enough money for a proper bunk. She went off to sleep once more, the scent of smouldering corpses filling the space beneath her nostrils.

Almost every single day for the entire year that followed her parent's murders, she had wondered what it would have been like to go back in time to that one disastrous day. If only she had disobeyed her mother, leaped out of the cupboard and took up a cutlass, and stabbed it into the pirate's heart before he could rape and kill her Mum. At times, she felt guilty at doing such a thing. Yet the thought gave her a great sense of satisfaction that it possibly would be the greatest feat that she'd accomplished in her life. To claim revenge for their deaths would also be the only way to rectify that damaged part of her heart. She believed it to be so.

However, her Elizabeth Swann alter ego said otherwise. She already had managed to live a contented life in the small town of Port Royal, with the means of someday becoming a true blacksmith herself - if she is not discovered by then. So why throw away everything she's tried so hard to build for herself?

Revenge was a fickle word that led to fickle things. Would she chance it if she could?

Elizabeth sighed as she wiped the sweat from her brow, finished with loading the last crate. "You ready for the delivery, Waldo?"

The donkey twisted its head to give her a doleful look. She grinned.

"Don't look so pitiful. You'll never know, my friend . . . perhaps you won't be stuck as a dumb pack mule forever," she soothed, patting Waldo's stringy mane. "As for now, we'll have to bring over these cases. Oh, come on, don't appear so dejected! Hold your head high, and we'll pretend to be like one of those important officers and horses on duty."

Waldo glared at her. Elizabeth shrugged and tugged at the reigns, pulling the donkey and its wheeled cargo with her.

The small but slow caravan made their way to the docks, where much activity increased than usual. Sailors and officers alike ran to and fro to hail storage supplies onto their respective ships, while several other men shouted orders over all the hubbub. A couple of passing drunkards shrilled songs of some poor lass and a Davy Jones. Many boys around her age huddled by a ship or two, with more lads pouring in from the streets. Ladies giggled and tittered as they waved coyly at young sailor lads hauling heavy crates. At all this attention, the young men made sure their tanned muscled arms were exposed for chauvinistic flexing.

"Well, this is quite unusual for a Monday," remarked Elizabeth to the donkey. Waldo flicked his ears in agreement. She pursed her lips, sizing up the scene before her. "No matter. The _HMS Endeavour _isn't scheduled to depart until half past noon. We still have time to search for the bloody ship."

The tang of ethnic hot foods and spices from the nearby market had her mouth watering and yearning for some, when they strolled by the booths. However, she brought no shilling with her, and she had a task to follow through first. Reluctantly, she nudged Waldo nearer to the ships to spot the _HMS Endeavour._

"Brown is lucky that I can read, the little snit," she muttered, eyes passing over a weedy ship called _The Twisted Frederick. _"Or else, this'd take forever, and it'd be off with his head."From the last two years of living the low-class life in Port Royal, she's learned that the children around her age and status did not have the education she had when she was but a tot. Out of the seven apprentices she became acquainted with, only one knew at least how to write their name. She thought it was sad how ignorant those lads would grow to be . . . and made her feel uncomfortable yet a bit proud for knowing more than they do.

"_HMS Endeavour, HMS Endeavour, HMS _. . . Where in the - oh, Waldo, I see it!" She flailed a pointing finger toward the blue-flagged ship.

As they neared the ship, they had to push through a stream of young boys who did not appear to be seamen. "Excuse us, sorry, I didn't mean to step on your - ouch, sorry!"

"Watch where you're shovin'!" glared a grey-eyed boy.

Elizabeth went on ignoring him and called to the one man who held a paper in his hand, amidst the cluster of young lads. "'Scuse me, sir, are you part of the _HMS Endeavour_'s crew?"

The old man adjusted his specks and leered down at her. "Yes, if it's any of your business . . . ?"

"It is," she said impatiently. She scowled warningly at the boys to keep away from Waldo and gestured toward the crates behind her. "These are the new sets of cutlasses for the crew on the _HMS Endeavour_, courtesy of" - she gritted her teeth, knowing very well that it _wasn't _- "Blacksmith Brown."

"Mm-hm," nodded the old man curtly and whispered to another man beside him, probably his assistant, and the young man moved to take the crates off Waldo's wagon. "That'll be all."

Elizabeth nodded once and turned to leave, cringing at the restless eyes of the boys surrounding her. Not wanting to be there any longer, she was about to bolt when the old man called out "wait". She looked back, dubious.

"What can you do lad?" the four-eyed man inquired, clearly seizing the whole length of her body up and down.

_What?_ She gave him a weird look and answered, "Forge swords, write, read . . ." She was all the more bewildered when a chorus of groans and angry snarls arose from the crowd of boys. What was going on here, she wondered.

The light in the four-eyed man's eyes changed as he appraised her. "I see. What does that read?" He pointed to the ship behind us.

Not knowing where this questionnaire was leading, she slowly answered, "It says '_The Communion Pike'."_

"Hm. What does that say, on the crate?" he asked, indicating the brown crate that his assistant used as a seat earlier.

" '_East India Trading Company'_," she replied, finally deciding that she was not liking where this was going. The boys about her did not seem to like it either.

"How old are you?"

At this question, Elizabeth thought it through carefully but quickly. She knew she was going on thirteen very soon, but her voice was too high to be a boy coming to his age. "Eleven."

The four-eyed man took another good look at her before finally saying, "How would you like to be Ship's Boy, lad?"

Elizabeth stared. "Repeat that, please?"

He ignored the comment. "Do you have family in Port Royal or are you an apprentice of the Mr. Brown?"

"A-Aye, I'm his apprentice, but I suppose I know enough . . ." _Not really_, Elizabeth thought.

"A master at the craft? At your age?" The man shook his head. "You're already testing my patience, boy. Is that a yes or no?"

Elizabeth gaped. "Yes, I-I'd like to, but . . ." The enraged yells and shrills of protests from the young boys drowned the rest of her sentence.

The four-eyed man pulled her closer by the tunic and said, "A letter informing your resignation of your apprenticeship will be delivered to Mr. Brown, and your donkey will be escorted back to the Blacksmith. Welcome aboard to the _HMS Endeavour, _Mister . . . ?"

"Charlie. Charles Wellington," she mumbled, unable to grasp the sudden changes.

"Up the plank, Wellington," he said and shouted out to the boys. "We need one more Ship's Boy, lads, so convince me why one of you filthy dogs should board this ship!"

"You'll be alright without me," comforted Elizabeth as she stroked Waldo's back. The donkey only looked sadly at her. "Someday, I'll come back and set you free. Bye, Waldo." Unwillingly, she released the reins from her grip headed towards the wooden plank. A few boys attempted to trip her and pull her back, but all obstacles were conquered with the result of two bruised eyes and a throbbing shin.

When she arrived on the ship's deck, it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. _I'm not a blacksmith's apprentice anymore, I'm a Ship's Boy, a seaman-in-training. _Could this mean that this was the start of her journey to finding her parent's murderers? To claim her revenge like she had always wished for? She gazed at the big ship in wonder until she noticed the four boys that leaned on the railings beside her, watching the recruitment for the last Ship's Boy.

"'Lo," one of them, a lanky boy with dark skin stepped forward and nodded at her. "Welcome board. The four o' us make up the faction of Ship's Boys in this piece o' wood. The name's Chet Danes."

"I'm Mark Bertrand," gruffly said the oldest-looking one with green eyes and a stocky build.

The shortest boy who smiled slightly at her had freckles over the bridge of his nose and shocking red hair. "Me name's Liam Conley."

The last Ship's Boy did not say anything, preferably gluing his eyes to the crowd below them. Liam rolled his eyes and nudged his friend hard in the ribs.

"Well?" Liam hissed.

The boy sighed and faced her, the only boy out of the four with hair long enough to tie it back into a tail. "William Turner," he uttered simply and rudely turned back to looking at the scene down below.

Chet sighed, shaking his head. "Not much of a talker, that one."

Elizabeth, however, did not mind. She only stared at William Turner's back, still completely mesmerized by the intensity of his grey eyes. She had never seen such eyes on any person. For the first time in a long while, since she had become Charlie Wellington, she felt like a besotted maiden.

But the feeling went away as soon as it had came. She knew better than to get mixed up with a boy like William Turner. Her secret would surely get out and there was no doubt in her mind that she'd be in for the gallows. She set her sights else where for the time-being. She gazed at the billowing flags above her. The navy's crest could be seen on the highest elevated flag. _Figures._

She crossed over to the railing and peered down to the town below. Even from far off, she could see the sign of Mr. Brown's shop swinging gently in the sea breeze. She missed the sight of it already; not to mention she missed the entire shop all together. The _hee-haw_ of Waldo every morning when Mr. Brown would wake him. The smoldering heat of the fire when she'd forge a new piece of metal. The gratification of finishing a newly-polished sabre. She even missed the slaps on the head and threats she'd receive whenever she'd daydream at her post. _Oh, that madman really has grown on me._ Elizabeth sighed.

"Are you gonna miss this ol' town, Charlie?" Chet nodded his head toward Port Royal. She shrugged, not really having an answer. "There ain't nothin' for you there. But, out here . . ." With a glint in his eye, his head gestured to the open ocean. "Who knows what lies in store for us?"

_He has a point, _Elizabeth thought. Sure, she could've stayed with Brown for the rest of her life, but then what? Was that truly what she wanted? Would she have been able to seek revenge on the brutes that have given her hell on earth? Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists along the railing. _It's hell they'll have to pay . . ._

Soon enough, the last ship's boy was chosen and was boarding the ship. He was just like all the other boys. He had a ruffian look about him with big burly arms and his walk was a bit bowlegged. His chin jutted outward and his hair was a ruffled shade of brown. The four-eyed man followed him from behind and cleared his throat loudly, grabbing the whole crew's attention.

"As you all know, you are now the six new ship's boys aboard the _HMS Endeavour. _I have deemed each of you worthy of being here, and it's just up to you to prove it. I'm tellin' you now, this journey won't be easy. Every single thing you do is your own responsibility, no mate's going to look after you like a mother. So if don't feel up for the challenge, then leave now and forever hold your peace." He eyed each boy, daring them to make a move.

"We'll see what you've got, old man," Liam Conley whispered under his breath. Chet nodded his head in agreement and grinned. Mark crossed his arms knowing there was no way he was taking a foot off that ship. William just stood there, his face undecipherable. It angered Elizabeth at how stoic and calm he could be. Or maybe it was jealousy.

"Right then." He straightened his glasses. "My name is Warren Kingsley and I am the tutor of the _HMS Endeavour_. If any of you have any questions, you come to me or anyone else on this ship. Myself and few _mentors_ of your choosing will be training each of you long and hard every day on this here ship. We're going to break you in. I don't want any prissy girly boys on this ship,_ is that understood_?"

A quick "yessir" was replied in unison. Elizabeth gulped slightly.

Warren Kingsley began to pace the deck making sure he could be heard. "It is important that each of you live up to the Navy's standards. You must honour this opportunity by working past your fullest potential. Most of you won't be coming back, but it's a chance each of you are willing to take. We will discipline you and teach you the ways of manning a ship. From this moment on, there's no turning back." He halted. "Have I made myself clear?"

One look at his earnest face, and another "yessir" resounded.

"Good." Mr. Kingsley looked beyond the group of boys and grinned. "Now I'd like you to meet our captain of the ship, Lieutenant James Norrington." Everyone turned to find a neatly dressed gentleman with well-groomed dark hair and a pale complexion. Elizabeth's brows furrowed. _That man looks rather familiar . . ._

"So these ship's boys, Mr. Kingsley?" Norrington swept uninterested eyes over the line of filthy boys. None of them except William had the courage to hold his gaze. "Well then, we have a long way to go, don't we? Shall we begin then? They'll need kits, and lunch is almost over. We can't have our new members to sail on an empty stomach." He smiled snidely, and with a lingering look on William Turner, Norrington turned and left, much to the boy's (and Elizabeth's) relief.

Moments later, Elizabeth prodded her maggot-infested bread. When she looked to the side, she did not know whether laugh or hurl at the way Chet and Mark devoured their food. Had they any idea of what was _in _their rations?

"What's the matter, Charlie? You don't want that?"

"Er, no, I do." _Suck it up, Charlie Wellington,_ she thought. _Maggots are not the worst of your problems in this journey, anyway._

**To Be Continued.**

**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything in this story, except for the plot and some unrecognizable characters!

**Authors' Notes:**

**V0X. **Here is the first chapter, finally finished. But in my notes of the Prologue, I forgot to mention that this piece is based off a pirate book called "Bloody Jack" by L.A. Meyer, with same concept in which a girl acts as a boy. No, we did not copy excerpts verbatim from the book. It's a novel that spawned ideas that eventually lead to this fic, a story we're proud of. Of course, we're not following through that book's plot, but completely making our own. ) Go read it if you haven't. I recommend it. And please, continuing reviewing? We'd really appreciate the support!

**Zell.** This chapter took longer than it should have. We've been writing into late hours of the night hence our pen name ) and we pretty much procrastinated while passing an edited version off to the other through emails. But it all worked out quite nicely. I really hope that this chapter has set this story off to a good start for you, our readers. Our second chapter might take a little longer because I will be gone on vacation for nine days. And with no wireless connection on my mother's laptop, I won't be able to help VOX with it as much as I want to. So please be patient. I promise your waiting will be rewarded! ) Please R+R! Thank you so much! See you soon!


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